Paint me like the burnt air.
Unwanted, careless and forcibly inhaled.

Paint me like the bruises on my chin.
Blue hued, swollen and new.

Paint me like blood.
Flowing and hidden, threatening to flood out.

Paint my pain.
No one else knows, I so desperately need to share.

In vain, paint me
In vain, paint me in vain.

Isn't it funny how the phone charger in theory resembles that of an umbilical cord?

Even as adults, we long for what was - from once we were torn

Isn't it something to say that something so important to modern society
Resembles something symbolic to birth
To nature

It's anything but
Sure it feeds energy and life just like the cord used to...
Sure it's useful in its own sense
Just like the cord used to...

Perhaps they share similar ends...
They'll both fade away from use and be thrown away

It's not really a poem
I thought I'd write
nonetheless

I prefer to wallow
in my own world of silence
and yet... I'm forced to interact

I share my thoughts, learn through my experiences
all the while
writing on a shabby piece of paper

I don't pay attention to the
World ending
It has ended for me
Many times
And began again in the morning

I don't pay attention because I'm me
Fallen beneath the cracks
A forgotten pile of flesh and bones
Neither bad or very good
Person
Being
Entity
Bad things have happened, more
Less good, more bad more bad
I'm so filled with darkness
I'm lacking full introspection
If the world split I'd fall in between

It's who I am, dark and devoid in a world
That's not my own, full of optimistic aspired light.

I am seeking
For so long I have been seeking
And yet...

I do not know what I seek

What is it I'm looking for
Where is the direction
Deflection
What stands in my way

Motivation
I lack the motivation to carry on

Seeking

It's a sad reality when I realise that you won't live forever.
you're slow to the pace.
No longer can I see through the wrinkles on your face.
you linger
stutter, longer than you should.
I never expected for it to come so soon.
too much to do - things I never could
do on my own, without you - now, the only hope is that I could
Ignore the heartache and gloom
and accept things for what they are - and soon will be.
that one day you will part from me.
It's a sad reality that one day you won't live forever.

It is gained so slowly, lost so quickly
We fight over it, we burn over it
Immense and long graft awaits us, an early mourning next
Controlled by something foolishly we had to create
A temporary happiness, unsatisfied and unfulfilled
All over a piece of paper, an apparent expense